


Curve

by greenglowsgold



Category: Glee
Genre: Finn is the reasonable one, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenglowsgold/pseuds/greenglowsgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generally, Finn isn't sure that either Puck or Kurt have any idea what the hell they're doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curve

**Author's Note:**

> This needs a touch of backstory, since it spawned from a tumblr conversation and I sprang right off from there. Basically, Puck and Kurt hooked up during 'Vitamin D' while kind of high, and they mutually and silently agreed to forget about it until Kurt makes an offhand comment relating to the specifics of Puck's dick during an argument (subtle enough that nobody else really gets it, but proving Kurt remembers). And then they can't ignore it anymore. We join our heroes (idiots) in the immediate aftermath.

The entire cast of New Directions had been sitting very quietly for the past 115 seconds or so, ever since it became clear that Kurt and Puck were no longer arguing about the music, so it wasn’t like the awkward stillness was new. It was just amplified by a thousand now that Kurt had claimed the final word and sent both of them spiraling straight into the same careful silence.

Finn didn’t exactly get _why_ Kurt had managed to end the argument so quickly; his last words were something weird about ‘grading on a curve’ or whatever, and okay, obviously he was pissed, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the other barbs they’d thrown at each other in the past couple of minutes. Still, both Kurt and Puck had reacted to it instantly, mouths snapping closed and eyes on anything but each other. No one else seemed to know what to do with it, either. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, but the sound that finally broke the silence was much louder.

“Oh _shit_ , Puck, you—” Santana was cut off abruptly as Puck whirled in his seat and clamped a hand around her leg, shaking it a little to ensure her attention.

“San,” he said through gritted teeth, “ _shut up_.”

She was too busy gaping at him to respond to his pleading, but she didn’t say anything else, either. Obviously, she knew something the rest of them didn’t, because everyone else was still floundering in various states of confusion. Tina’s eyes were flicking madly between Kurt and Puck, hand gripping Mike’s arm like she’d lose any hint of comprehension if she let go. Quinn’s focus seemed to have shifted to Santana, eyes narrowed, trying to read from her shocked face. When Finn turned to raise an eyebrow at Sam (dude was living with them now, so maybe he’d heard something from Kurt that would explain…?), he only shrugged in response, nonplused.

At least sound seemed to be allowed again, after Santana’s outburst, and Mr. Schuester took it as a cue. “Well, uh, we can certainly take both suggestions into account,” he said, ignoring the fact that nobody cared about the songs anymore, though he’d lost control of the room at least three minutes ago. “We have time to experiment before nailing down a set list, anyway.”

Finn decided to ignore Mr. Schuester in return, for now, and leaned forward to hiss at the top of Kurt’s head. “Kurt. _Kurt_.” He got no response. Kurt only stared, white-faced, at where his fingers dug into his pant legs, almost certainly leaving wrinkles. Finn poked him in the shoulder, and Kurt’s mouth only twisted a little.

“…run through any of those today?” Mr. Schuester was saying when Finn started listening again. He glanced hopefully around the room, but everyone’s attention had focused elsewhere. Artie’s gaze was on the ceiling, and he looked like he was reciting something under his breath, while Puck was still turned in his seat to have some intense eye-conversation with Santana. Meanwhile, Blaine was trying to get Kurt’s attention as well — even less effectively than Finn, given that he sat on the other side of the room. “Alright, well, um, in that case, I guess we’re done for the d—”

An explosion of activity suddenly replaced the unnatural stillness. Kurt was the first to bolt out of his seat, reaching the door almost before Mr. Schuester had even finished speaking, and Finn winced as he saw Blaine trailing after him. He’d been trying too hard since the breakup, really. Puck pulled Santana – now staring after Kurt and dragging her heels – out the opposite door, and the rest of them exited in groups and pairs. Mike and Tina were whispering furiously as they went, and Quinn was clearly recruiting Mercedes for some plan of action.

Finn didn’t bother to run; he doubted he’d be able to catch Kurt, who had shorter legs but a fierce determination not to be backed into corners. And he _so_ did not want to interrupt whatever conversation Puck and Santana were having. Maybe Kurt would explain if Finn didn’t bug him about it, just brought him some warm milk tonight and offered to listen. He was getting better at the whole chatting-with-milk thing.

Anyway, the whole club was like some weird, codependent mess, and secrets couldn’t be kept secret for anything. They’d know soon enough.

\---

A week later, Finn was determined not to be concerned. After all, nothing terrible had happened, right? So it didn’t really matter that he still didn’t know what had gone wrong.

Everyone else had apparently forgotten the argument by now. Santana had come in the next day grinning wildly and winking when she caught Kurt’s eye (making him flush deeply and duck away), and the rest of the club had chosen an extreme of either avoiding Kurt and Puck like the plague or dogging them for answers. Maybe they’d gotten something, or maybe they’d just been distracted by this week’s round of drama: another huge blowout over dance moves. Finn didn’t let it get to him (he wasn’t going to get the routine either way), just kept watching the interesting parts of rehearsal.

The interesting parts being Kurt and Puck, because they seemed to be the only ones who remembered their argument. They hadn’t gotten over it, but instead, the weirdness had multiplied, until Finn wasn’t sure how everyone wasn’t staring at them like some old sitcom.

They refused to sit near each other. It wasn’t an extreme, side-of-the-room avoidance that would have been obvious to anyone looking, but a distance carefully calculated every day to look almost casual, an accident that there were always at least two chairs in between them. Puck had begged off coming over to Finn’s for Halo three days in a row now, and Kurt refused to wait around and give Finn and Sam a ride home after football practice, so Finn was taking his own car in these days. Weirdest of all, though, was how, every once in a while when one of them thought no one was looking, he’d stare at the back of the other’s head, like he was trying to figure something out.

This was what made Finn sure that neither of _them_ knew exactly why this was such a big deal, either, which meant it was all some huge overreaction, and if Finn didn’t do something about it soon then they would be stuck in a loop of stupid forever.

He drew the line one day in rehearsal, when a new routine found Kurt and Puck closer than they’d been in over a week. Somewhere in between the 2, 3, 4 and the turn, their hands brushed together. Finn saw it out of the corner of his eye, because lately he’d been watching them almost creepy-close, but even if he’d missed it, they would definitely have gotten his attention with what they did next.

In one synchronized motion, they each _flung_ themselves away from the contact. Puck flew backward into a chair, which unfortunately wasn’t an empty one, but rather Artie’s chair, and it came about _thisclose_ to tipping over before Mike flailed out to grab it and steady them both, so that Puck was slung dazedly across Artie’s lap while Artie groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. Kurt was just at the start of his turn and had no chance of controlling his own fall, and he went spinning wildly into Brittany, who unfortunately had no one to catch her, and they both ended up on the floor.

It looked like choreography, like a scene in a movie where a tiny explosion went off between two characters in a fight, and Finn very carefully resisted the urge to clap.

As everyone picked themselves up, Finn could see Mr. Schuester trying to salvage rehearsal, but it was a lost cause with five of them hit (even Mike had gotten his shin jammed by the tipping chair). Once their teacher saw Kurt’s lip bleeding from contact with a flailed hand, that was the end of it. He packed them up and started sending them off to the nurse. Finn caught Kurt’s arm on his way out, making Kurt look up at him questioningly, one hand raised to his mouth to stem the flow of blood. Finn winced.

“Kurt. Kurt, this is stupid.” He let his eyes flick over to Puck, still apologizing to Artie, so his point was clear. When he looked back, he saw that at least Kurt’s gaze had followed his. “Would you just…” Do something, he meant to say, but Kurt ducked his head and stepped back, leaving the room quickly.

‘ _Well, fine_ ,’ Finn thought. Kurt lived with him; he couldn’t avoid a lecture for long. And boy, was Finn enjoying his role as the “reasonable one.”

\---

Being the reasonable one sucked, Finn realized the next morning. Reasonable ones made sacrifices – like breakfast or getting to class on time – and tramped around the school for their cause, trying to find non-reasonable people to talk some sense into. Being the _only_ one of his kind, Finn didn’t even have backup, because no one else could see what was going on.

Maybe he’d check the choir room again, he considered, turning down the hallway for the third time, but he had to stop at the men’s room first. He would sacrifice a lot for this, but not bathroom breaks. Either the universe wanted to spite him even in this, or it was employing the ‘last place you look’ rule, because the bathroom was already occupied by exactly who he was looking for.

Finn caught just a glimpse of Kurt and Puck, standing together by the sinks and obviously (finally) talking, and he tried to close the door as quietly as possible. He must have made some kind of noise in the initial surprise, though, because he was pretty sure he saw Puck turning to look before the door shut. Damnit. He stood to the side of the door, back against the wall, arms crossed, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t stopped them from fixing things right, and really needing to pee.

Kurt came out a minute or two later, and his eyebrows rose at finding Finn outside. “Don’t you have class?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Finn said, looking back and forth between Kurt and Puck, who had emerged a few minutes behind. They were standing within two feet of each other; that was good, right? They looked… normal.

Puck clapped a hand to Finn’s shoulder. “Dude. History.”

‘ _Should they, though?_ ’ Finn thought. After all that, shouldn’t fixing… whatever it was have more of an impact? They didn’t seem bothered at all. Puck threw a ‘see ya, Kurt’ over his shoulder as he steered Finn off to class, and Kurt shook his head fondly like it figured they were late. Like _he_ was the reasonable one. Which, what the hell? Finn knew Kurt was more used to that role, but still.

Maybe it was okay, though. Maybe they’d gotten all that out of the way before Finn found them. They _had_ been gone for a while, after all. Maybe things would go back to normal.

“We have homework?” Puck asked, perfectly natural, eyes on the room numbers as they passed by.

‘ _Nope_ ,’ Finn thought. ‘ _Wrong, wrong, wrong._ Not _normal._ ’ Little alarm bells were ringing in his head, because something was very obviously _off_ , he just couldn’t pin down what it was.

It wasn’t an isolated thing, either. As the day went on, Finn kept noticing it, in Puck and Kurt both. There was no friction between the two, no more weird avoidant behavior; Kurt even passed Puck some sheet music in glee and didn’t flinch at all. Still, there was something else. During practice, Kurt daydreamed, and Puck kept playing with his phone, distracted. Puck relented and came over for video games, but Finn wasn’t sure it really counted when he sucked so bad.

“Dude,” Finn said eventually, tired of watching his character headshot Puck’s a hundred times in a row.

Puck turned to him, face a perfect form of confusion and impatience to get back to the game. “What?” Like he hadn’t been freaking _moping_ all day.

“Just…” He would ask what they talked about this morning, but looking like this, he didn’t think Puck would even bother to glare at him for the invasion of privacy, which was depressing as hell. “Nothing.”

Shrugging, Puck turned back to the game and promptly fell off a cliff.

It only went on from there.

Finn watched them both wander slowly through the halls all week, like some kind of low-impact zombie invasion. By the end of the week, Puck was going to every one of his classes (though taking notes in none), and Kurt was wearing the same sweater he’d chosen on Monday. And people started to notice. Finally.

Rachel dragged Kurt off after school one day to ask for help choosing an outfit for a date (which Finn was going to have to plan, now, but the gesture was nice), and though Kurt seemed to go eagerly, he came back tired instead of energized.

He offered Finn a small smile. “As satisfying as it is to finally dress your girlfriend in something flattering, the shopping is exhausting. I had to physically restrain her from a display of plaid skirts.” Kurt went to bed soon after.

Out on their date (which Finn had thrown together for the weekend, and even though it wasn’t well-prepared, the food was good, and Rachel _did_ look really nice), Rachel leaned close to confide in him. “I think the breakup with Blaine is finally hitting him. He’s taking it pretty hard.” She frowned sympathetically.

Finn frowned. “You thinking it’s a breakup thing? But that was…” He counted backwards. “More than a month ago.”

“Well, yes,” Rachel conceded, “but he didn’t really get a chance to mourn properly at the time, did he? Besides all the signs are there. It’s classic. Mercedes had him over for a day of romantic comedies this afternoon, and she says he didn’t even make it through _When Harry Met Sally_.”

That could almost work, Finn thought, but it didn’t explain Puck. No one else agreed with him, but they obviously weren’t looking, because if they were they would have noticed how often Puck’s eyes landed on the back of Kurt’s head. Once again, only Santana seemed to get the connection, and she sat between Puck and Kurt in practice, kicking Puck in the shin whenever his eyes shifted.

Finn cornered her at the end of one such practice, having had enough. It’d been days of this weirdness, and no one looked like they were going to deal with it on their own. He’d caught Kurt eating chocolate ice cream the other day, for God’s sake, and Kurt didn’t even _like_ chocolate ice cream (he usually chose pistachio, the weirdo). So Finn caught Santana as she was packing up her things, having sent Puck ahead with some stern words Finn couldn’t really hear about having “a talk.”

“What’s wrong with Puck?” he demanded, trying to look totally focused despite the fact that his eyes kept flicking back to check on Kurt as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

Santana’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be the one to figure it out.”

Finn chewed his lip to keep himself quiet, unsure if admitting he didn’t _really_ have it all figured would wreck his case or not.

“And to answer your question,” Santana continued, “ _I’m_ dealing with Puck, alright? I’ll fix him. But there’s two of them acting like idiots lately and you,” she jabbed a finger into his chest, “get the other one.” With that, she stalked off.

\---

“Hey, Kurt? Uh.” He cleared his throat. Try again. “Kurt?”

“Hmm?” Kurt turned away from the rerun of _Batman and Robin_ they’d found on late-night tv (since Rachel had mentioned Kurt’s reaction to romance movies, Finn had been trying to stick with action). Finn cleared his throat again. “Do you, um. Want to talk about… anything?”

Kurt blinked. “No. Why, do you?”

“No, no, I—” He cleared his throat; third time’s the charm. “I just meant, about Puck, you know,” he finished, trying his best to give off the impression that _he_ knew, too.

By the way Kurt’s cheeks went pink, he figured he did okay at it, or at least his discomfort was masked by the sound of the Batmobile revving. “Oh,” Kurt said, staring at the television, the couch, the window where there was just barely enough light to see the rain coming down against the glass; anywhere but Finn. “I didn’t know you… Did Puck tell you about that?”

“No. I mean, it was kind of obvious something was going on.” When Kurt looked doubtful, Finn rushed to continue. “And Santana told me.”

Kurt groaned. “Figures,” he muttered to his knees. “Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? I’m sure it seems like it, but it’s really not. It was two years ago, and I didn’t—” He swallowed. “I didn’t think he even remembered it.”

Finn nodded, feeling more in the dark than ever. “He did, though,” Finn offered, reasonably sure of that fact even if he didn’t know what it meant.

“I _know_ ,” Kurt said, looking very unhappy about it.

“I know you guys already talked about it, but maybe you should… talk… more?” He really wished he could be more specific.

Shaking his head, Kurt spoke almost before Finn had finished. “No, I’m sure Puck’s done talking.”

“No, he’s not,” Finn rushed to say. “I think he wants to, I think—”

Kurt huffed something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Finn, just— It’s fine, I promise. I’m not mad or anything. I wasn’t expecting it, and I think just… everything with Blaine lately…” He shrugged. “It’s been quite a month.”

Finn’s eyebrows drew together. Blaine? Was Rachel right, and it _was_ really about the breakup? He wasn’t sure what to do with this, wasn’t sure he’d “got” Kurt at all, like Santana had instructed, but damnit, this was _hard_ when he didn’t really know what he was talking about. “Alright.” He paused. “Puck’s upset about it, though.”

The look on Kurt’s face told Finn he’d only made it worse, and he winced; he really hadn’t meant to make Kurt feel like crap about this. He suggested they watch a movie instead, and searched through the cases until he found _Aladdin_. Maybe cartoons were the answer. Kurt didn’t seem to mind, just stared through the screen, thoughts elsewhere.

About the time Aladdin took Jasmine out on his carpet (or somewhere around there, though Finn was starting to fall asleep, so he’d sort of lost track), the singing was interrupted by the doorbell. Finn checked his watch: after midnight, what the hell? “I’ll get it,” he mumbled, standing up and wiping sleep out of his eyes slowly enough that he ran his foot into the coffee table before he’d gotten his bearings. “Ow.” Behind him, he heard Kurt sigh and follow him.

“Tired?” Kurt asked lightly.

“No one should have to answer the door this late.”

Kurt nodded. “It does seem unreasonable. You should let them know.”

“I should,” Finn said, twisting the doorknob. “I should— Puck?”

It was raining, Finn remembered. That was why Puck looked like he’d just stepped into a shower with his clothes on. Finn shrank back from the door a bit, away from the rain, and stepped on Kurt’s foot, because Kurt was suddenly, like, _right_ behind him.

“Puck?” Kurt echoed, stepping around Finn without saying anything about his squashed toes. Finn resisted the urge to wave a hand in front of his face. “What…?”

Puck breathed out a short laugh at the word. He was smiling wide enough to split his face, eyes bright, and wow, forget about getting Kurt’s attention, Finn kind of wanted to grab him and yank him back into the house. The last time Puck had smiled like that, he’d convinced Finn to come along with him and set off fireworks in an empty field, and Finn had nearly gotten his ass lit on fire.

_On. Fire._

“So I was thinking maybe,” Puck licked his lips, “we _don’t_ forget about it.”

“Oh my God,” Kurt laughed, and Finn glanced at him, did a double-take. Why was everyone smiling? “Puck, you’re…”

“Awesome?” Puck said hopefully.

“Something like that.”

Kurt stepped right out into the rain after that, and Finn was so distracted by the movement (wasn’t that sweater not supposed to get wet?), it took him an extra moment to realize they were kissing.

“What.”

They ignored him; Kurt’s arms wrapped tighter around Puck. Which, well, Finn felt a little brain-zapped himself, but neither of them seemed surprised, just… distracted. Okay, yeah, he was definitely leaving. He took a step inside, thought better of it, stepped back. “Is this gonna fix things?” He thought he wouldn’t get an answer at first, but then Puck detached one hand from Kurt’s hip (um) and gave him a thumbs-up. Right, good enough.

Finn left them making out in the rain like morons. He didn’t bother to shut the door when he went, just kept it open for them, letting water pour in to soak the first foot of the entryway. They’d drip plenty onto the mat when they finally got over themselves and came inside, anyway.

On the stairs, he ran into Burt. “It’s for Kurt,” he explained simply.

Burt scowled. “It’s after midnight.”

“Glee thing,” Finn said, trying to nod in an I’m-on-your-side-but-best-let-them-be sort of way. “I’m sure they’ll only be a few minutes.” At some point, if nothing else, Kurt would figure out that he was getting incredibly wet.


End file.
